Dear Heart
by TheImaginationAddict
Summary: One of Anne's letters to Gilbert went astray and fell into my hands. I sent it on to Gilbert, of course, but I couldn't resist peeking in and sharing it with all of you...UPDATED with the answering letter from Gilbert.
1. Anne

**Disclaimer: No, I did not actually get this letter. I'm just pretending. Both Anne and Gilbert belong to L.M Montgomery. *sigh***

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><p>O Gilbert mine!<p>

"Isn't that such a poetically romantic greeting, Gilbert? But true, thank goodness! I have been reading a book of Shakespearean sonnets, and when I came to that line 'Journeys end in lovers meeting' , my mind flew out to meet a certain medical student, poring over his tomes in Kingsport, wishing that this journey of time would go all the faster. I think you know him. Do you think he feels the same, Gilbert?

My pen today is absolutely lovely, Gilbert dear, so I'm going to make an attempt to put all those dreams on paper, which I dream when I watch the evening stars blink into existence and think of _you_. The stars seem to twinkle at me, calling out - Anne, Anne! Come, join us, and you can peep out of a cloud, and see HIM; and when he grows weary of his books, and looks out into the night, he will fly out to join you, and you can meet him here; unhindered by "barriers of time and distance", crowned king and queen of love in this kingdom of clouds and dreams. Will you come, Gilbert?

You know how much I love my "whims and fancies", as Mrs. Lynde calls them, and dreaming up beautiful air castles about the future, and I've been so happily surprised (I love beautiful surprises, don't you ? They seem like rewards for good deeds done with no expectations, only through the goodwill of our hearts) when so many of my dreams have come true in the past few years. But in one case, my dreams fell short of reality, for I could NEVER have dreamt of love, such as I have known, never have dreamt that I would have _you_. Does it not show then, that God has the best imagination of all?

It seems so silly now, to think of the type of hero I imagined for myself, in those childish days, with Diana. It was a hero truly, Gilbert, for he belonged in a book, with soulful, unfathomable eyes, who would go about saving the heroine from drastic situations and evil plots, who would recite beautiful, poetical speeches on all romantic occasions. But I don't want a hero now. I want that friend, who'll help me not to fall into scrapes, with whom I can share jokes and thoughts, with whom I will be comfortable. Comfortable seems such a plain, unromantic word, doesn't it, positively smacking of the mundane, lacking excitement? And yet, love _is_ comfortable – full of that security, that all my faults and weaknesses, dreams and wishes, hopes and confidences are safe, are loved for themselves. Love is _you_.

Oh Gilbert, I am so uplifted with happiness sometimes, that I feel as if I would rise up in the air; made as airy and light as a feather by all the joys that fill me and lighten my heart! I am sure many would call it sinful to love a person as much as I love you, but it is involuntary; having started, I can no more control it than I can do breathing. I cannot, WILL not believe those who say that love is magical only in the beginning - I am sure I will feel the same wonder, the same joy, when I look at your dear face sixty years hence, darling, as when I look at you _now;_ and feel the same possessive thrill, that you are _mine_.

Do you remember that time last winter, when we strolled down Lovers Lane, and you asked me why I blushed suddenly? A thought, another vista had dawned upon me as I saw all those places I'd named with Di all those years ago; it was too new a thought ,then, for me to share with you without feeling "as shy as a newly-wed bride".As I saw those haunts of childish minds, that sanctum of young hopes and dreams, it seemed to me that a curly brown-haired, green eyed, little girl danced gaily in the path before us, while a red-haired, hazel eyed boy of tender years teased her by pulling her braid. Those two have followed me to Windy Poplars; I see them when I look at my mischievous students, laughing and playing; and I see you beside me, as I go through classes, sweetly and patiently supporting me as I help these minds grow. I still have grand dreams for some of my students, Gilbert, but greater dreams for those two children of my mind; and with these dreams we'll adorn our house of dreams when the time comes, and our lives become one. How I long for that day, dear heart!

Yours,yours and ONLY yours,

Anne Shirley(Soon-to-be-Blythe)

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><p><strong>AN: It's been quite some time since I read Windy Poplars, so forgive me if this has come somewhere in the original...Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Thanks so much for those beautiful reviews! :) It made me so happy to know that others out there felt the same things while reading this,as I'd felt while writing it. :)**


	2. Gilbert

**Disclaimer : Ditto.  
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><p>My very own Queen Anne,<p>

Oh, that I were not bound by these laws of physics and duty, and could defy gravity and every other practical commandment which keep me from flying away to join you in that starry world! Then, I would not have only these paltry words to send you, not have to wait for the post each day, with such impatience, for your letters, not have to see your adored face only in my dreams!(_Now_ do I sound like those heroes you dreamed of , Anne? But such sugary words on paper only serve as fodder for humour; perhaps, I will just reserve the words which express what I truly _feel_ for the time when I can whisper them in your ear… surely you have _some_ idea of what I will say, Anne?)

As you know, I go to the roof to read your letters – the racket that the fellows kick up would never let me focus on your words, otherwise – and just now, a beautiful tawny brown owl flew past – and I wished that I could ask it to carry my letter to you - wouldn't that be more romantic than sending it by the dreary medium of the post office? (Even if it's more reliable!) How sad it seems sometimes, that all our ideas of romance have to be so thwarted by practical considerations! And yet, I think I can satisfy my Anne's longing for romance – if not by poetry and serenades under her window, if not by pretty flowers and prettier speeches – by guarding her every secret, by trying to fulfil her every whim, by assuaging her every fear, by cherishing her every smile, through all that we will face in the years to come! Romance is - the laughter shared over remembered jokes, the quiet understanding of each other's thoughts, the acceptance of each other's weaknesses and pride in our strengths – and yes, Anne, comfort – that you belong to me as much as I belong to you – and that NO one can have a greater claim on you than me. _There's_ a possessive nature for you!

When I had decided upon this profession as the most worthy way in which I could help my fellow man, and do my bit to remove as much of sorrow from this world as I could, I had never thought that I would need support myself, Anne. Yet, when I see the extent of people's suffering, the pain and grief of those who lose their loved ones - I despair, thinking of the thousands, elsewhere, without even hope of medical help – and it seems hopeless to think that I can do any good – how can one _ever_ hope to conquer a problem of this magnitude? It is only when I think of you, that I can shake off those despondent thoughts, as in the words of Shakespeare, "_But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor'd and sorrows end_", for, the reminder of your faith in me never fails to bolster my determination and raise my spirits – as _you _are my greatest strength, dear love.

Ever since I read your letter about those two children of our future, I have found myself being haunted by them, too, Anne. Those dreams are sweeter, and the hopes more earnest - that we may protect them from all harm, and nurture them with our love and that I may strive to be a better man, to never lose the trust of those young minds and _you._ Do you remember all those theories we had about handling our students at school? Those ideas seem so foolish now – life can never be lived following a rulebook. We will make mistakes and I wish, I _pray_ that they will not prove heavy, but all that we do will only be prompted by love, so maybe, that will be enough. For, though pain exists, so does the healing power of acceptance and forgiveness, and with you beside me, I am certain that our house WILL be the perfect 'home 'o dreams'!

If I could will time to go faster, I would – but alas! We mere mortals must abide by the rules of nature, and follow Duty, though she is a harsh mistress – and I console myself with the thought that this wait, though intolerable, will only bring greater joy in the future – for don't they say, that distance brings hearts closer, and though patience is bitter, it's fruits are the sweetest? (I have waited for you for so long, dearest, that the knowledge that you love me is enough to take the bitter edge off this separation.)

This humble servant seeks to assure you that by the grace of your kind prayers, his health is in the finest state, and he wants nothing more in the world except your continued good regard and wellbeing. (I'm_ sure_ this is how Aunt Chatty's grandfather would have expressed himself, Anne-girl!)

Till the day I make you mine and beyond,

I will remain only YOUR own,

Gilbert Blythe.

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><p><strong>AN: I had planned this fic to be a one-shot, but I started hearing Gilbert in my head, and HAD to put in his letter! ;) A Happy Valentine's week to all - love and let love! ^_^**

**wildchild7 :Thanks for reviewing!I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)**

**Tinka1: I'm glad you thought it was authentic. :) **


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